My Fair Lady
by Urchin of the Riding Stars
Summary: Twoshot. Note: When your four year old finds the vengeful specter that you told him was probably lurking in his closet to be a better playmate than you, chances are things won't exactly work out in your favor. AU Danny/Vlad Fatherson
1. Chapter 1

My Fair Lady

Twoshot. Note: When your four year old finds the vengeful specter that you told him was probably lurking in his closet to be a better playmate than you, chances are things won't exactly work out in your favor. AU Danny/Vlad Fatherson

_~0*0~_

_Hello, everyone! All Hallows' Eve is coming up soon, and I wanted to write a story (BTW, Guys, please check out the description's "oneshot" term before you ask me to continue a fiction) before I begin work on all of the assignments that need doing this weekend. (Now **THAT'S** scary! :c) _

_Anyhoodle, have considered this plot for awhile now, and am giving the Father/Son Vlad and Danny thing a try. Still experimenting with song lyrics-do not normally approve of using other people's work in a story, but London Bridge just kind of brought this one to life for me. This story was a little rushed in order to get it finished in time for Halloween, so please keep that in mind! Part II is already done, but I'll be submitting it in tomorrow, because it got way too long.  
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_As always, I welcome critique, and hope you enjoy it. Happy Halloween.  
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* * *

><p><em>London Bridge is falling down, <em>

_Falling down, _

_Falling down, _

_London Bridge is falling down, _

_My fair lady. _

Sometimes, she can hear the schoolchildren singing it outside her family's little apartment-the one that the Fentons had to scrimp and save for to salvage what was left of their lives from the ruins, and it makes her want to smile and cry and laugh and break things all at once.

Her little daughter Jasmine now knows better than to do so much as hum the innocent little ditty around her mother, unless the troubled child is hurting so badly inside again that she wants her mother to hurt too, and she sobs the words into her pillow after she and Mummy have had another fight.

Jasmine is a smart girl; it works every time. It's happened more than once that an exhausted Jack Fenton has stumbled inside their meager home, smelling of garbage after a long day's work, to find his wife collapsed in the bathroom, sobbing while she clutches a ragged blue blanket to her chest, while his daughter sings with a breaking voice from her tiny bedroom.

And after that, there really isn't much left for Jack to do other than sigh, and feel his aching bones shudder, and his shoulders sag. But despite his own misery, he knows that it's time to hold his wife and daughter, and slam the lid on the old music box. But it's easier said than done.

Always easier said than done. There's only so much an evening of Chinese take-out and a family movie can do for a broken heart.

_ Build it up with wood and clay,  
>Wood and clay, wood and clay,<br>Build it up with wood and clay,  
>My fair lady.<em>

Their lives had been left to the pyre, and while three out of four Fentons had stumbled out out of the ashes together, none of them felt particularly like the magnificent phoenix proudly emerging from hell to start a new life.

They'd watched Fenton Works explode into a fiery blaze of green flames-the same building Madeline and Jack had put their blood, sweat, and tears into for over eight years to convert it into both a home and a lab bent on breaking a dimensional wall to the world of the dead.

The couple had put all of their money into their most recent project, expecting a large payoff from their commissioners, the Guys in White. Certainly not into insurance.

And everything they owned was lost. Gone forever. It practically killed Jack that his wife now had to buy all of her clothes from the Salvation Army, and the one jumpsuit she'd managed to save for herself was tattered, and covered with patches, though she'd insisted that it had been no bother, really. Nonetheless, while other students at Jasmine's school were coming in wearing fancy backpacks and jeans that sparkled and had dolls to play with, Jasmine's clothes were for the most part woebegone, often too big or too small, and her better clothes were covered with patches from overuse. All of her school supplies were simply bought secondhand, and nowadays, the little girl often came home crying, because if she wasn't being picked upon for her "teacher's pet" status, it was the fact that all of her dolls were old, and covered with paint stains.

They certainly didn't have the space they used to be able to afford, either. It was a cramped, two bedroom apartment with no living room, playroom, or back yard for Jasmine, though in retrospect, Jack supposed that he preferred having to squeeze into such tiny quarters.

Open space would have reminded him of the emptiness beside Jasmine, inside of his aching heart, beside him at their small dinner table. The hollowness at the edge of his stomach refused to dissipate, regardless of how hard the man worked shoveling garbage bags into a stinking truck, desperate to squirrel some small portion of his salary away each month in the hopes of being able to pay Jasmine's college tuition someday. Some days, particularly when he had to debate on joining a union and possibly losing his job, were easier than others. He had to be much to think and contemplate and worry about to notice the dull throb underneath his ribs.

There were some days that it was harder to pretend, though. The loss of his home, possessions, and a great deal of his dignity when Madeline had had to collect food stamps in the first few months were mere pinpricks inside compared to his greatest loss.

It just hurt. And weary though he was from his six day a week workload, the empty, resounding pang would keep ringing inside while he was staring at the cracked ceiling of his and Madeline's tiny bedroom.

_Wood and clay will wash away,_  
><em> Wash away, wash away,<em>  
><em> Wood and clay will wash away,<em>  
><em> My fair lady.<em>

Jack doesn't loathe the song the way his wife and daughter do, but it does little to alleviate his stress, particularly when insomnia comes to knock on their household at night, and the man has to ignore his flask of sleeping pills so as to not grow dependent on them. It's usually that damn song that keeps him up at night, however, replaying itself over and over again in his mind.

Danny had loved that song, even as an infant. When the little boy would wake up during the night, sobbing his little lungs out after he'd started teething, Maddie could normally make the child quiet again by squeezing a stuffed teddy bear a thoughtful neighbor had sent the Fentons as a shower gift. For whatever reason, the smiling toy would immediately begin to play '_London Bridge is Falling Down_', and, for whatever reason, it was a surefire way to stifle the tiny bundle's whimpers. Jack still recalled when the teddy had been lost, and he and Madeline had spent a memorable afternoon tearing the house apart looking for the thing while 9 month old Danny wept until his face turned red.

Of course, once they'd found the darn thing hiding behind the couch, Danny had by that time at last fallen asleep. The memory makes the corners of his mouth twitch, and the sadness blossom once again.

To be painfully honest, Jack could not remember an occasion where he'd actually sang his little son to sleep with his favorite tune, (Though in his defense, Jack's warbling voice sounded remarkably like a trapped cat's) let alone an occasion where he'd tucked his son in at night.

He'd always thought Madeline had been the one to do it after they'd grown so engrossed in their three-year commission. He'd occasionally gave Jazz a peck goodnight, and sometimes a bedtime story, but that was because the little girl could stay up later-to the hour where a tired but pleased Mr. and Mrs. Fenton had trudged up the lab steps after a hard day's work.

Maddie had been so busy that she and Danny had stopped going to the park every Friday, as was their favorite tradition. She'd tried to bribe Jasmine into taking her little brother, but it was only later that Jack and Maddie learned that Jasmine had only been using the spare change to buy things like candy and plastic ponies.

Jack and Maddie had both forgotten one day was parent-teacher conference at Danny's preschool, and while they HAD remembered eventually (Six hours later after the conferences had adjourned), it had been sobering to see Danny still waiting alone on the school steps when they'd zoomed up the drive, the janitor by his side. Jack and Maddie had promised to take Danny out for ice cream to make up for it, but Maddie had had a brilliant brainstorm whilst they'd been sitting at a traffic light, and Jack practically ripped the steering wheel to have the RV race down the sidewalks in his eagerness to go home and test out his wife's hypothesis.

And there'd been that other time, when he'd been supposed to take Danny to the Father-Son bowling meet being held at their community center, but he thought Danny could live with it. He'd believed that Maddie had called and set up a playgroup for his son to meet up with that afternoon Jack and Maddie were moving unstable canisters of ectoplasm down in the basement.

It was only later that he learned that Maddie had thought Jack had done the same thing.

Jazzy didn't really like to play with Danny, and as far as he'd known, Danny hadn't really had too many friends at school for some reason, but there'd always been the TV, and the neighborhood was safe enough, so, well, he didn't know-he thought the child was spending most of his idle time outside, like any normal child living it up.

It was only later on that Jack learned that the little boy had been 'living it up' alone.

And then, to his horror and despair, most certainly _**not**_ alone.

* * *

><p><em>Six Months Earlier<em>

* * *

><p><em>London Bridge is falling down, <em>

_Falling down, _

_Falling down, _

_London Bridge is falling down, _

_My fair-fair-fair-f-f-f-f-f-f-f_

His stuffed bear now sounded like a frog singing from underwater.

With a small frown, a little boy with a crop of raven-black spikes atop his head turned his small, worn little bear around, and cuddled it to his chest, dispiritedly pressing the light blue bear's paw once again. It started a sad attempt to sing, but now, it sounded more like the bear was impersonating a frog trying to sing with a mouth full of tinfoil underneath a pool of fizzy soda. Shuddering, Danny sullenly threw his bear as hard as he could across the room, and watched his bear hit the wall, and slide to the carpet below.

Stupid battery. He'd begged his parents for weeks and weeks to find a replacement, but his teddy needed some special type of battery replacement that Mummy said was probably more expensive than his teddy itself. She didn't understand. Grown-ups scarcely ever did. If Jazzy wanted Bearbert's eye sewn back on, then it gone, or else Jazz would blubber and sob and carry on. Whereas, if Danny did the same thing, then his parents would frown, and Mummy would put him in time-out, and Daddy would take his teddy away and put him on a high shelf.

Of course, they were always in the basement these days, so it never took much work to push a stool to the shelf so that he could cradle his bear again. But Jazzy was a tattle-tale, and ratted him out most of the time unless he did the things that she wanted, such as tidy her room or allow her dumb, mean little friends to practice putting this stupid, sparkly nail polish on his fingernails.

After a moment of scowling at his bear, the boy's pout slowly started to waver, and he scrambled out of his bed to hurriedly scoop up his toy, and he held it close as he hurried to his bed again, imagining invisible tentacles and little jaws full of sharp teeth nipping at his ankles as he hopped back into it after a few failed attempts to climb it. Shivering, Danny glanced longingly at the reassuring light bulb flickering dimly above him, wishing that he didn't have to turn it off. While he couldn't really sleep it with on, he already had an inkling that tonight was going to be one of THOSE nights, and since he wasn't going to sleep regardless, why bother turning out the lights, regardless of what Mummy or Daddy said or did when they came up, and saw that he was still awake? He'd rather be sleepy and cranky the next day rather than start dreaming again.

He'd wanted a nightlight for his birthday. His Father had made him a little ectoplasmic pistol instead, which he claimed did much better for one's fears than a 'dinky little toy.' Maddie had tried to disagree, and had insisted that Danny was much too young for these sorts of dangerous things, but Daddy had slipped it to him all the same, disguised as a harmless water gun that lay underneath his pillows. Danny's little hand brushed over the small weapon, wondering if all it when fired was send up smoke in his face, the way most of Daddy's inventions did.

That was a relief: All the ghastly and horrible things at night that were waiting for him to sleep so that they could start discussing which parts of him were ripe for eating-as Jasmine had said they did-could take one look at his efforts to defend himself, and die from laughing. How comforting.

Danny shimmied deeper underneath his blankets, peering fearfully at the darkness underneath his bed, which was probably full of horrible things just waiting for when the lights would go off so that they could have the world to themselves.

For him, night promised the scary 'Witching Hour' Jazz had taunted him about that could NOT….probably….most likely….be true. Every single, scary unknown creature that he'd seen in the awful stories that Jasmine would sometimes read aloud to him when he wanted a fairy tale with a happy ending…..peered at him in the dark while he tried desperately to sleep, eyes squeezed shut to a safe darkness while his heart trembled and fluttered with terror.

Other kids at school had parents that told them that there was no such thing as monsters. His parents regularly told him that while there probably weren't any "monsters," (His mother had scoffed at the term) there were most likely ghosts waiting to hurt you, possess you, and eat you if you weren't especially careful at all times.

More often than not, Danny wished his parents were not ghost hunters, or at the very least, that they came up to kiss HIM goodnight and tell HIM that there was nothing to be afraid of for a change. Sometimes, he heard them come up, tiptoe past his bedroom, and start murmuring loving goodnights to his sister in the room next to his, and the injustice made him so angry and hurt that Danny cried. On the telly, parents kissed their children goodnight and tucked them in, but TV was wrong.

Maybe getting attention was a sort of big-kid thing. He wished that he could grow faster, and measured himself daily using the little scale the Fentons had used for a couple of years, but he never seemed to grow any taller, though he stretched as far as he might using his tiptoes until Jazzy would trip him.

Danny pulled his bear underneath the blankets with him, his breathing very soft and slow in the muffled darkness underneath the quilts.

They told her bedtime stories. Of course they did-Jasmine was at the highest reading level in her class, and her grades came all covered with gold stars and smiley faces, covering up the finger paintings that Danny had on the fridge. He was used to being the one ignored-occasionally forgotten, even at school. His parents hadn't shown up at the play where he'd been an explorer in the woods looking for treasure, because there'd been Jasmine's first ever ballet recital.

At school? This big dumb mean kid that sat beside him named Dash poked him, stole his crayons and his snacks, and it just so happened that his Mummy Mrs. Baxter was THE TEACHER. _Of course_ she never believed his complaints, and _of course_ he wound up with time-outs more often than Dash or any other child in his class did.

But now, especially since the summer holiday from school had officially started, it seemed he was more visitor to this house than anything else. Jazzy was not at home very often, and even when she was, she was scarcely ever a good playmate. She made it a point to remind the child that the stork had accidentally brought her a baby brother instead of the sister that she was supposed to have, and that the GIRLS ONLY sign on her bedroom quite explanatorily meant, GIRLS ONLY.

Mummy and Daddy weren't really much better. For as long as Danny could remember, they'd been working on this dumb, mechanical portal thingy that was supposed to take them to the world where ghosts lived.

To be honest, it seemed to Danny a very stupid project, considering that ghosts were scary and that leaving the other well alone seemed like a very good survival tactic, but Mummy and Daddy had been offered a great deal of money by the government to do this project. Daddy sometimes talked of the lavish vacations they would have one day after they completed the project and got the money, but it seemed most unlikely that his parents would ever actually manage to get the thing to operate, which was only a small comfort.

Now, the government was getting impatient, and Mommy and Daddy were racing to get the portal done, spending more and more hours downstairs in the basement to beat their deadline. Danny typically wasn't allowed when the basement; there were machines humming and sharp scary things whirling and his parents were always working with this glowing green ooze stuff that looked like the toxic waste stuff on the telly. He'd tried to touch it once with his bare hands, but had only managed to get slapped, and ordered upstairs again.

The little boy had been abruptly jerked out of his reverie when his door slammed open, and an annoyed pair of teal eyes met his own after he poked his head out from underneath the blankets.

"Your dumb light is coming into MY room," the little girl fussed. "I can't sleep."

Danny opened his mouth to protest, but Jasmine abruptly switched his light off, closed the door, and now Danny was trapped, because the monsters under his bed and in the closet were free now, and he got the sense that if he ran out of bed to turn his light on NOW, he would be dragged under the bed or into the closet, and eaten alive.

Terrified, Danny burrowed into the supposed safety of his blankets, wondering why the room temperature dropped all of a sudden. Now, he had the shivers, and his heart was thudding painfully against his small chest.

And someone WAS eyeing at him from the darkness.

* * *

><p><em>Go to sleep. Go to sleep, go to sleep, go to sleep.<em>

He tried counting sheep, but the sheep kept getting red eyes and teeth that were as sharp as broken glass. He tried thinking nice thoughts, but the idea of someone coming in to eat you has a way of gripping the mind, and Danny found himself burying his head under his pillows, praying for morning or his parents to come and rescue him as the wind moaned and whistled out, causing a tree bough to scrape against his dark, cold windowpane.

He could taste his own fear, though his mouth was dry. He had an inkling that something brushed against his foot, and, scared out of his wits, Danny ducked under the blankets again into a small ball, wondering if he ought to simply scream loud enough for Jasmine to come stomping into his room again, announcing that she was going to tell Mummy and Daddy.

Let her. Let him get in trouble. He'd gladly forgo dessert tomorrow if it meant that the hall light could pool into his room, and send the shadows dully flying into the corners of his room.

His breathing picked up, and he sounded close to hyperventilation. Something was watching him. Someone was waiting for him in the darkness. Danny didn't know if it was hungry or not, but his mind told him _no._

But it was waiting for him, anyway. And that made it all the scarier.

Danny let out a little whimper, and, remembering what Mummy had said about singing making people cheerful again, pressed his little bear's paw, and listened to the slow, eerie sort-of-singing coming from his bear. He licked his very dry lips, and quietly started to sing along:

_Build it up with bricks and mortar,  
>Bricks and mortar, bricks and mortar,<br>Build it up with bricks and mortar,  
>My fair lady.<em>

Danny didn't know what 'mortar' was exactly, but it sounded strong and reassuring-like the smart little pig's home that was spared being blown down by the big bad wolf. He found himself feeling better, in spite of himself.

And then, from his closet, someone in dark, dulcet tones started to sing back:

_Bricks and mortar will not stay,  
>Will not stay, will not stay,<br>Bricks and mortar will not stay,  
>My dear Daniel. <em>

Danny hadn't been thinking when he did what he did next.

Heart stopping briefly in midbeat, he felt himself becoming lightheaded, and then, his feet slowly slid to the cool floor, his teddy and ecto-gun slipping from his limp fingertips back onto the bed. More aware than ever of the monsters, they too now seemed frightened; all scuttling or gliding or creeping back underneath his bed, whilst Danny could not see them.

Every hair on his head standing up, Danny cautiously approached his closet, hesitated, and looked longingly towards his bedroom door. But now, the closet was having some grim, magnetic attraction to him, and if he didn't approach it, he imagined some dark hands dragging him back towards it, despite his attempts to scurry for freedom. He would be in the very deepest depths of the darkness forever.

But curiosity had lit a flame inside of him, and slowly, he reached for the door, only to startle back with a gasp as something streaked out from underneath a crack in the door-a shade of darkness much more intense than the shadows around him.

And from the writhing mass of shadows which had no form, as if they themselves were alive, emerged a nightmare that was grinning at him, with a large, toothy smile, and blood-red eyes.

His glowing skin was as blue as if the entity had spent time six feet under in a tomb in winter, and he was tall, very tall-and he had a hairstyle that looked like long, devilish horns were sticking out of his head.

Danny cocked his head, mouth dropping, his legs going numb from beneath him. Uncertain of his footing, the child stumbled, landing on his knees as the thing slowly approached him, still smiling in that pleasant 'you're-about-to-be-dismembered' way.

Unable to make a sound, Danny looked at him.

The ghost looked at Danny. Remembering his manners at last, the boy cleared his throat somewhat awkwardly, and picked up a nearby toy boat that he'd left on the floor earlier that day.

"Hi. I'm Danny," said the little boy. "Wanna play with me?"

* * *

><p>And so, it transpired, the ghost had.<p>

What exactly the ghost had been doing in his closet to begin with, Danny did not know, but did not think to ask. Thankfully, his visitor assured him that he would not shrivel away like the other monsters did when the lights were turned back on, so the lights were flickered back on with little fuss, and the ghost politely introduced himself in turn. His name was Vlad Plasmius, which to Danny seemed a very funny name to have, but he came knowing how to play fifty-two pick up and gold fish, and, as it often is, made the oddity most acceptable.

Plasmius was a delightful playmate to have, surprisingly amicable whilst looking like a beast that had crawled out from underneath Danny's bed.

He was gentle, and asked questions-some of the nicer, more sincere ones, not like the ones some grownups asked when they wanted to look like they cared about Important Things. He asked him about his favorite stories, why he liked them, and what Danny liked to do, and why his parents had come in to wish him a good night.

Of course, Danny hadn't been quite so willing to answer the last one, and the ghost's brow had creased with what looked like disapproval while red eyes glittered with mischief, but Danny had just won his last pair for Go Fish, and was easily distracted.

Jasmine never let him win without throwing a temper tantrum. But the ghost, most thankfully, was a gracious loser, and soon suggested that they play a new game.

Plasmius asked more questions, and while he seemed reluctant to talk about himself, the child found it pleasant to talk about himself for a change. The ghost occasionally had to give him a gentle reminder that his sister AND parents were now sleeping, but no one came to Danny's room in the middle of the night to tell him off, or to try and rip his new found playmate's guts out or something, much to his relief.

He was gentle, and asked questions-some of the nicer, more sincere ones, not like the ones some grownups asked when they wanted to look like they cared about Important Things. He asked him about his favorite stories, why he liked them, and what Danny liked to do, and why his parents had come in to wish him a good night.

Of course, Danny hadn't been quite so willing to answer the last one, and the ghost's brow had creased with what looked like disapproval while red eyes glittered with mischief, but Danny had just won his last pair for Go Fish, and was easily distracted.

Jasmine never let him win without throwing a temper tantrum. But the ghost, most thankfully, was a gracious loser, and soon suggested that they play a new game.

Plasmius asked more questions, and while he seemed reluctant to talk about himself, the child found it pleasant to talk about himself for a change. The ghost occasionally had to give him a gentle reminder that his sister AND parents were now sleeping, but no one came to Danny's room in the middle of the night to tell him off, or to try and rip Plasmius' guts out or something, much to his relief.

And then, came the offer. A glorious, terrifying offer that Danny, while now scared out of his wits again, eagerly agreed to, the adrenaline and the excitement easily outweighing the fear:

Flying. Who didn't want to try it at least once in their lives?

* * *

><p>Admittedly, it HAD been terrifying, at first. Thankfully, Vlad kept no higher than twenty feet from the ground when he'd first 'phased' Danny through the window (Such a weird, tingly sensation!) while the boy had cowered in his arms, and clutched onto him for dear life, but soon, seeing the many little twinkling lights scattered below became infectious, and Danny asked his new buddy to take him just a little higher, please.<p>

Then more.

And more.

And more.

And then Plasmius curtly told him that if they went any higher, the atmosphere would make Danny pass out, much to his disappointment, but it was magical. Even with the chilly wind whipping at them at so high an altitude, Vlad was surprisingly warm for being a ghost, and the child was comfortable. The specter had clasped the boy's stomach reassuringly as they glided over the little village like birds, over hills that stretched on like oceans and little clumps of trees on a patchwork-quilt-like world. Danny had gleefully extended out his arms, imagining he was a superhero while they rocketed in the sky, both roaring with laughter as if the whole, magical world below them was just some colossal joke only the two could understand.

Too soon had dawn broken, and Plasmius had returned the reluctant boy back from the sky to his bed, and bid him a mild goodbye before sinking into the floorboards and disappearing, despite the child's protests or his dismayed pleas.

But just as he was starting to climb out of his bed again to run to the closet, a heavy wall of sleepiness suddenly broke over him, and the boy fell back against his pillows without another word.

While a positively evil smile and a greedy, scheming mind whirring in motion returned to the darkness.

* * *

><p>His family dismissed his wild descriptions as vibrant dreams, and to be honest, Danny himself doubted whether the enchanted night had happened at all. Certainly when he'd woken up it had been a little later in the day (He'd been jolly well exhausted), but that could easily be attributed to the fact that it had been so hard to fall asleep the night before. He couldn't know for sure. Jasmine had taunted him and called him a baby, but he'd show her.<p>

Or be very, very disappointed that his new friend simply did not exist!

But he'd been eager for night to come, and he hadn't been disappointed when the bugaboo had again emerged from the dark to play. He'd thought about running to Jasmine's room to prove her wrong, but Vlad was HIS secret, and Jazz WAS a tattletale, so it was better for everyone involved if everyone was kept in the dark.

That night, they drew pictures, and made up stories. Vlad usually told the better ones-ones about a very wicked man deciding to try and hurt his best friend by turning him into a beast so that his best friend couldn't marry the woman that the bad guy liked.

These stories were often miserable, and they made the child angry, much to Plasmius' amusement, but the boy had always been delighted that terrible things that befell the bad guy at the end, and that the nice man wound up with the pretty lady, because despite being a monster, he was smart and wealthy and had gone on many adventures and people liked him.

The four year old had admitted aloud that he wished the story had ended with the bad man apologizing to the good man so that they could become friends again, but his ghost-buddy had only shook his head, and soberly told him that that simply wasn't the way the story went.

And so that was that. Danny hadn't minded very much. Plasmius was fun, and he had brilliant ideas: He could quietly take off the sheets on Danny's bed, and turn them into sails, creating a little pirate ship out of Danny's bed. He'd graciously allowed Danny to be captain, (In their games, Jazz had always been captain, whilst he'd been galley slave) and accepted his role as first mate with all the dignity and seriousness of an actual grownup who wasn't laughing at you.

They made spyglasses, and hunted for treasure, and Vlad one evening a few nights later had briskly scooped up the "ship," and glided it around the room, much to Danny's excitement. The ghost had had to put a finger over the boy's mouth so that his squeaks of joy wouldn't stir anyone.

And they hadn't.

And although Maddie had noticed that her son was yawning a lot at breakfast, and generally looked bleary-eyed until noon or so, she had only ever extended his bedtime, something that Danny had been surprisingly quite pleased about.

* * *

><p><em>Build it up with iron and steel,<em>  
><em> Iron and steel, iron and steel,<em>  
><em> Build it up with iron and steel,<em>  
><em> My fair lady.<em>

In their rush to meet the deadline, Maddie never had any time to paint with Danny, nor did she notice that the child was increasingly drawing pictures of his "imaginary friend," which, with its long teeth and red eyes, looked suspiciously like a vampire. Had Danny drawn such a picture at school, he would have been whisked off to the psychologist before you could say Jack-sprat, but again, no one knew.

At night, Plasmius continued to tell stories, or he would read aloud from Danny's picture books in such a way that had the boy's heart pounding with excitement, and dreams of the unexpected and fantastic.

Jack brushed Danny off when the boy wanted to play catch in the yard. While the man was seriously intent on finishing the program downstairs with Maddie, he'd nonetheless felt a mite guilty when he'd glanced back, and noticed how disappointed his son looked. He'd clapped the child on the head, and told him not to mind-there was always after suppertime, after all.

There was never an 'after supper-time.' Always, always, Jack had forgotten, and tried to justify it to himself by trying to make it up by 'tomorrow,' or when the blasted portal would be finished, and the Fentons would have a much larger income. Then, there could be family time and relaxation.

Jasmine was never around to play, but she was never a nice playmate to begin with, so while Danny had missed the human presence, it really hadn't been so much of a loss.

And so, after a while, the child had simply stopped asking.

Working in the basement with ectoplasmic power tools, Jack and Maddie were oblivious to the world above, and more likely than not, Jasmine was braiding doll heads or pony tails with her friends, so Danny began to spend most of his time alone. On mornings when his parents had felt particularly stressed by their upcoming deadline, they skipped breakfast, (More often than not, Jasmine was having a slumber party at one of her friends' homes) and Danny would have to push a stool over to the cabinet to clamor onto, and hop up and down on it until he could reach a box of cereal.

Thankfully, Plasmius had begun to spend the nights he visited, and some little parts of the mornings. He was a wonderful person to have around, particularly when you needed to reach things from tall places. Danny was in awe of this kind man who came to hold him when he had nightmares, and soon grew to adore him. Plasmius was his caretaker, his friend, and his defender. Strange things were now known to happen to people who upset Danny at school, and while it increased the berth of people around him, at the very least, there was someone beside him, even if he couldn't _see_ him.

Plasmius took him flying. Plasmius played with him. Plasmius praised his drawings and told him not to mind the shadows underneath his bed and even brought him a new battery. He loved Plasmius.

Which was probably why he did what he did months after meeting his ghostly visitor.

* * *

><p><em>Iron and steel will bend and bow,<em>  
><em>Bend and bow, bend and bow,<em>  
><em>Iron and steel will bend and bow,<em>  
><em>My fair lady.<em>

They'd finally finished it.

But it hadn't worked. Every detail had been pored over extensively, every little thing put on, taken on, and applied again-finally, a mere day before their deadline, the Fentons were going to do the impossible: Open a rift between the human world and the Ghost Zone.

It bewildered Jack and Maddie when the machine had only ever sparked pathetically when the power cords had been extended, and even after pouring over Madeline's calculations thrice, the rift would not work. It COULD not work.

Perhaps, because, every little thing had been thoroughly scrutinized and analyzed, except for the fact that the only way to turn the machine ON was to venture inside the vortex itself, and press the mechanism, a mistake that could only have been made by the very stupidest of men.

Why idiotic?

Say that the creators of this brilliant yet remarkably idiotic machine were to trudge upstairs with broken hearts and sagging shoulders. Say that they'd been so preoccupied in their work they hadn't noticed that there had been a small figure watching from the cover underneath basement stairs.

Say that these hypothetical scientists had had a child, dear reader-one that just so happened to HOPE that his parents would break through the human realm, and discover just where ghosts lived.

But when the project failed to ignite, say that when the ghost hunters had left their failure behind, a disappointed, unaccompanied child were to timidly approach the dark and scary looking machine, hoping to stumble into Plasmius' world.

And his hand automatically groped in the darkness for a light switch...

_Build it up with silver and gold,_  
><em> Silver and gold, silver and gold,<em>  
><em> Build it up with silver and gold,<em>  
><em> My fair lady.<em>

* * *

><p>It still makes goosebumps erupt at the base of his neck, and his heart start racing. Always with it comes the fear, then the fury, and then the bloodlust. Oh, how much he'd like to someday hunt down that ghost and <em><strong>WRING HIS NECK AND STAB THROUGH THE STOMACH AND RIP OUT HIS AWFUL, HORRIBLE RED EYES FOR TAKING HIS BABY-THE FENTONS' BABY-AWAY!<strong>_

And after that comes more grief, and Jack goes stumbles outside their house to the crumbling steps outside of their building, where he can see no stars in the sky because of the vast amount of manufactured, florescent fireflies glaring around him in a twinkling firestorm.

It's there that Jack too breaks down and weeps where his remaining family can't see him, because it's there he wonders if anything at all would have changed by one simple action. Just one.

Calling off work for a day to take the kids to the library?

Help Danny and Jazz to do an art project?

Help them bake something?

A hug?

A kiss on the forehead?

A good scolding?

The many ideas of what _could_ have been done and _could_ have been said and _could_ have been prevented torment him now. And there, under the streetlamps, he sits, face in hands, before Madeline's own sleeplessness compels her to slowly walk over to her husband, and hug him as hard as she could, under the quiet, unbearable ripple of night.

At the end, it still amounts to the same things. What could have been is now forever lost as what should have been.

Because regardless of the mourning, London Bridge still came tumbling down.

_ Silver and gold will be stolen away,_  
><em> Stolen away, stolen away,<em>  
><em> Silver and gold will be stolen away,<em>  
><em> My fair lady.<em>


	2. Conclusion

Danny had never before or since in his four years experienced the depth of flesh-searing agony that was inflicted on him that day.

* * *

><p>It could have gone on for hours.<p>

Perhaps days. It was over in seconds, but time had lost all meaning.

His throat grew hoarse from screaming, and when the pain did not stop, even after the poor child had crumbled to the ground with horribly blank eyes, he was petrified.

The floor had come up rushing behind him, as if the boy had simply stepped back into a wall, and pain, pain everywhere kept radiating his aching, glowing body-

&E*%#*(^(?

Why wouldn't it stop?

Oh, God, why wouldn't it stop?

Make it stop.

_**MAKE IT STOP!**_

* * *

><p>He hadn't been able to move for hours. Ectoplasmic sparks still occasionally flickered over his body, and while he sometimes slept on the cold tiled floor, other times, he just lay there, shivering, hurting so badly that he wished ardently to die.<p>

His insides felt as though they'd been microwaved, and he threw up once or twice. His hands were glowing a brilliant silver, which made no sense, and his little T-shirt was black instead of white, which also made no sense, and he felt tingly and burny and so very coldcoldcoldcold and his head hurt terribly and his vision swam over his eyes, but was also clearer than it had ever been before, as if the world had been magnified, somehow….

After a while, he'd heard a sharp intake of breath above him, and he felt the cold slightly edge away a little as a flash of light momentarily dazzled him. He still hurt, still burned, still shivered, but his hands were normal now, and no longer gloved. He still felt too heavy to move, but the tips of his messy hair in his eyes were at least dark again. The crisp clarity the world had once had suddenly wavered, and Danny felt his senses dim just a little. He could only just barely feel as a pair of arms wrapped around his chest, turned him over, and pulled him close.

It was so warm. Danny's eyes saw a blur of red before his eyes before he passed out.

~(0*0)~

He was grateful Plasmius carried him to bed. He did not at all think that he could manage to stand, let alone walk. It was difficult to breathe, and his body kept spasming in cold shivers. Vlad would not let him wrap up in a blanket, much to his chagrin-said that he was burning up-but Danny held as tight as he could to the specter, coughing lightly, stars still flashing before his eyes, body aching.

If he let go of his anchor, he would drift away and be lost forever. He believed enough of what the ghost had told him to know.

Vlad attempted to tip the contents of a sippy cup of water down the boy's throat, but it was cold, and Danny wrapped his arms around the man's neck and howled in misery. Casting an anxious glance at the door, the ghost protectively enclosed Danny in a tighter embrace, kissing his forehead, and wiping at the boy's eyes, which flashed from blue to peridot faster than a traffic light.

"Oh, Daniel."

The child looked up at the ghost with confused, feverish eyes, and the ghost's heart just about broke-from excitement or empathy or love, he didn't know which. Perhaps a combination of the above.

The sound of the boy's suffering moved him deeply, and he wished more than anything else he could just sweep his hand and make everything right, but selfish and guilty joy was blossoming inside of him as he held Danny tighter, wanting nothing more than to simply put the boy asleep again, and carry him to his castle. Only a few lingering threads of common sense kept him from just teleporting away with this prize-another hybrid. Another human-ghost hybrid.

The wonderful child Vlad had intended to use only as a weapon against Jack-gently push the child to hurt Jack in ways that the ghost could not….was so very, very much like himself, now. The billionaire was no longer all alone in the world. It had doubled in just seconds, and now this lonely, pained little child was cemented to the same fate he endured: Belonging neither with the living, nor the dead.

This child was the very LEAST of Jack's due towards his former best friend. Daniel was rightfully HIS now-no one could refute it. The boy was HIS son, his child, his heir, his companion. Jack wouldn't understand nor appreciate the beauty of having a child quite so precious and special as a hybrid.

He didn't even understand when he thought the boy was NORMAL. No one did.

Pity expounded, and Vlad wiped away the tears beginning to reform in Danny's eyes.

"Oh, my little dearest. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

"They'll get rid of me," Danny choked out at last, tears running liberally down his face, and horror bloomed in his heart as the true impact of his words sank into him. They WOULD get rid of him, if he was very lucky and they didn't try to cut him open!

Plasmius' dark glove smoothed Danny's messy raved-colored spikes.

"You'll have a place to go," he said softly, attempting to bring Danny into another embrace.

The boy only wildly shook his head and pushed himself away from the man, heartbeat picking up again.

"You don't geddit," he whimpered. "I won't have any friends. Ever."

"You will have me. You will have friends."

"But-but they'll get people angry with torches n'stuff! That's what always happens in the movies, and Daddy HATES ghosts! HE HATES THEM!" Danny's trembling voice rose to another scream, and Vlad crushed the child against him, his hands flying to stroke the boy's back.

"Shhh. Shhhhh. Please, don't cry, dearest. No one will hurt you. Ever again."

His voice was firm with resolve, and Danny, still white-faced, slowly turned fearful eyes to the man staring soberly down at him.

"_Ever_ again."

* * *

><p>So Jack had left the ON button inside. Well….it was a major hazard, but it was one the GIW would have to deal with, now. The project was completed, and now, Maddie could look forward to having her afternoons open again. Today, she'd meant to stay home and look after Danny, (Whom appeared to have a bad bug of some sort) but her voicemail had been littered with no less than twelve messages from Danny's teacher requesting that the two meet immediately. Nonplussed, Maddie had penned her husband a note, and took off for the school. To her surprise (And slight concern), the woman was waiting for her in the parking lot, arms crossed in the chilly Autumn breeze.<p>

As Maddie uncertainly stepped out of the car, Mrs. B immediately shook her hand, and bluntly invited her inside for a cup of coffee and a quick discussion.

"So, is everything alright? I'm terribly sorry about the parent-teacher meet," said Maddie apologetically as she gratefully accepted her cup of coffee from Mrs. B as she hurried to sit down at her desk. "Jack and I felt so foolish, we were so SURE we'd marked it on the cale-"

"Mrs. Fenton," Mrs. Baxter interrupted, not unkindly.

"There's something very wrong with your little boy's head."

Silence. Deathly silence. Maddie had just taken a sip of coffee, but choked, and only her great dignity kept her from spewing it all over the place.

Or preferably in the vicinity of Mrs. B's direction.

"I…beg your pardon?" asked Maddie coldly, her muscles immediately tensing up, as gearing for a fight. "What did you-"

"Please," interrupted Mrs. B apologetically, wringing her hands together. "I'm sorry to come out so matter-of-fact, Mrs. Fenton, but I've wanted to talk with you face-to-face for a few weeks now, and you've been unavailable-"

"As well I _should_ be for people that try to tell me there's something wrong with my children," said Maddie, a dangerous edge creeping into her voice. The teacher sighed.

"Would you feel the same way if your doctor told you that your child was sick or your dentist told you that your child needed a filling? I'm trying to help you and your family, Mrs. F-as soon as possible. Danny's behavior has been troubling me lately, and I wanted to affirm that all is well with your home situation.

Aghast, Maddie looked at her, anger draining, and being replaced with confusion.

"But….I…..why would…what do you….I don't understand. Everything's been fine at home. Danny's been quiet-hasn't gotten in trouble for weeks, now! Perfect little angel."

"We'd all like to think that, Mrs. F," said Mrs. B kindly. "But that's not always the case. And please don't fly off the handle; I'm not accusing Danny of anything. His case is more bewildering than anything else."

"Why?"

The woman sighed, and picked up a fat file that was on her desk.

"The boy won't play with anyone at recess, Mrs. Fenton. No matter how I or the other attendants try to engage him to be social, but now we can't get him to come out of his shell. At all."

"So he's shy! He's only a-"

"My little boy was TRYING to talk to him the other day," snapped Mrs. B. "And he brought the rest of his little classmates to try and convince Danny to play-"

"Dash bullies him," said Maddie curtly. "If Dash brought over everyone to circle around Danny, it couldn't have been good. Why didn't you tell me about this earlier?"

Mrs. Baxter gave the woman a nasty look.

"Well, regardless of what you might believe have happened, I get word from fifteen screaming children that chalk-PLAYGROUND CHALK-started to float out of its box and start HAILING itself down on them."

Maddie blinked.

"That's absurd. You're going to blame Danny for a lie preschoolers made up?"

"They all were insisting the same story, Mrs. F. And their heads were covered with dust. Most of them were crying. And, I do believe I DID try to contact you numerous times, but both you and your husband were preoccupied."

Maddie bit her lip, but then went on:

"So they got into a chalk fight! What has this anything to do with my son?"

Mrs. B turned a page in the file marked FENTON, DANNY, frowning.

"One of the preschool attendants….Melissa…..well, she gave the children an assignment: To write the word of what they wanted to be when they grew up. A cop, a cook, a teacher-easy things like that. Danny wrote the word 'Happy.'" Mrs. Baxter rolled her eyes, though the corners of her mouth twitched. "Melissa wasn't pleased at the cheek, and she sent Danny into Frowny Town-"

Maddie cast the woman a strange look. The teacher remedied:

"Time-out corner. And when Melissa had turned her back, and had gone downstairs to the storage cupboard for the next art project." She cast Maddie a troubled look. "The stairs were clutter-free, because the children aren't allowed down there, but nonetheless, she had a spectacular fall down the stairs, chipped a tooth, and needed three stitches for her lip."

"Well, what has THAT have anything to do with MY son?" Maddie protested. "Maybe…I don't know…she was wearing heels, or wasn't looking where she was going, or just lost her footing."

Mrs. Baxter turned a page, peering at it thoughtfully.

"Well, we all thought it was strange, because in her nine years of working here, Melissa's never had an accident. And she'd been wearing flats that day."

"But I still don't see-"

"I'm getting to that, Mrs. Fenton. Danny was recently evaluated by our school psychologist, and we suggest that you might have a word with him, because he advises that Danny be taken in for special observation-"

"'Observation?'" repeated Maddie, as if Mrs. Baxter were mad. "What on EARTH do you-"

"When the children were asked to draw their families," interrupted Mrs. Baxter. "Danny drew….well…hang on…."

She reached into a paper portfolio that had been sitting by her feet, and drew out a sheet of construction paper, handing it to Maddie with a raised eyebrow. Bemused, Maddie took it, and glanced down. Her eyes widened.

"What IS that?"

Mrs. B shrugged helplessly.

"I was hoping you could tell me that. You don't let Danny watch scary movies, do you?"

The painful answer was yes, so long as the movie reflected ghosts in a negative fashion, but Maddie bit her lip, and squinted at the drawing, looking at the stars Danny had scribbled in the sky.

"My boy has quite an imagination…." She mused, touching the little birds flying around the blue-skinned, red-eyed monster holding the scribble Danny's paw-like little hand. "It looks like they're flying. Over the sea. That's amazing."

Mrs. Baxter cast the woman a troubled look.

"Yes, well, I came over, and asked Danny to try and draw his FAMILY members. Mother, father-outside of his home, or something, with a nice sun or some flowers. He didn't really want to do it, but I kept coaxing, so he finally drew….this."

She drew out another sheet of paper, and this time, Maddie flinched, her lipsticked mouth dropping in disbelief. Blinking, she grabbed the paper, and held it to her eyes more closely, as if she hoped closer observation would mean that she would no longer be seeing the monstrosity she was seeing now.

Danny was again in the picture, but instead of the wide smile he'd had with the ghost in the other picture, he looked miserable, and his frown was so large that it could scarcely fit on his face. His father had a big nose and a large arrow through his head, and his orange jumpsuit was decorated with large, vomit-colored polka-dots. Her own self looked extraordinarily stupid, with bleeding red lips and an evil smile on her face, and Jazz had lots of sharp teeth, a demonic tail, and, for some reason, a large circle over her head. Maddie pointed to it.

"What's that?"

"I asked. Danny said that it was a large rock hurtling down on his sister from the sky."

Dismayed, Maddie's confidence wavered, and she cast a confused look at the teacher, who stared soberly back.

"At circle time, we asked the children to share stories. Danny gave us one where his sister locked him in a closet, forgot about him, and left him in there for two hours. I'd advise getting her evaluated, too."

"But-Jazz would NEVER-"

"When the children started talking about their heroes," interrupted Mrs. B. "Danny brought up his 'imaginary friend' again, and said he wished he was his father."

That one struck home. Maddie started to tremble, all of the color draining out of her face.

"What sort of 'imaginary friend' does he have?" she asked quickly.

"You mean you don't know?"

Shamed, Maddie dipped her head, and clenched her fists, but Mrs. B only sighed, and said:

"He calls him Vladdy, although sometimes its Plasmius. Perhaps he has two friends…whoever they are, they supposedly plays games with Danny and take him out for ice cream and look over his phonics sheets-"

"But I asked JASMINE to do that-"

"-and he's protected from being 'bullied.' I won't deny that many children, including my son, have treated Daniel a little unfairly, Mrs. Fenton-"

The woman inwardly snorted. From the little she'd heard, that was the understatement of the year.

"But strange incidents have happened, and now parents are becoming concerned. When a little girl named Star tripped Danny because he accidentally stepped on her chalk drawing, all of a sudden, we heard her start crying and saying that something was pulling her hair. A little boy who took Danny's rocket without asking nearly got run over by a car. And a little girl who said that Danny lived in a dark basement and had cooties all over him had all of Danny's classmates avoiding him for over five days. No one would willingly sit with him at lunch or color with him or offer him a place to sit at circle time…..well….her father's a lawyer, and he's actually trying to sue the school over her broken arm. She didn't fall. Didn't trip. Danny was inside, she was out-and all of a sudden, while she was jumping rope…."

Mrs. B trailed off, and bit her lip at the horrified expression on Madeline's face. Expression becoming somewhat more sympathetic, she patted the woman's shoulder.

"I thought you should know because parents have signed a petition," she said quietly. "They want Danny out of here and with a specialist, or else they threaten to have their children sent away from different schools. This is becoming quite serious, Mrs. F, and I think your child-both of your children-need help. Danny especially, from what I can see."

She pulled out a small, crumpled sheet of paper, and unfolded it on her lap.

* * *

><p>"Sometimes, the children have little notes from parents in their lunches, and the little ones ask me to read them aloud. Only once has Danny asked me to read one aloud, and the handwriting didn't match either yours nor your husband's on Danny's paperwork."<p>

She handed over the note, and, in unfamiliar, loopy script, Madeline read,

_Will be there if you need me, little badger. Try to keep your chin up today-we'll play when we get home. _

Mrs. B sighed.

"If you or your husband didn't write it, who did? It's extremely disconcerting, ma'am…like a ghost has been following hi-Mrs. Fenton?"

But Madeline was already out the door.

* * *

><p><em>Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid!<em>

Maddie ran two red lights, and passerby dove for cover as her car roared down the street. Only the need to keep staring at the road kept her from smashing her face into the steering wheel over and over again.

She was a horrific excuse for a mother. Her children had ignored her warnings to the extreme that they'd broken a cardinal rule; they were hanging out with ectoplasmic _slime._

Or maybe they hadn't. Maybe the ghosts forced her baby into it. When was the last time she'd tucked him in, and asked him about his day?

She narrowly avoided running down a cat.

When had she spoken to him last?

When had she asked if he needed anything?

Her face went white again as she tried desperately to remember the last time they'd eaten a meal together. Danny hadn't tried reaching out to her.

What if he'd been…overshadowed? What if a ghost was hurting him? Sneaking into his room? Threatening terrible things?

With a yelp of horror, Maddie slammed on the breaks, narrowly avoiding slamming into the Fenton RV in front of her. Jack glanced behind the wheel, started in surprise, and gave his flushed wife a large smile before rolling down the window

"Mads, ya didn't tell me that you were going out!"

The stoplight they'd been sitting at by this point had turned green, and the car behind Maddie honked impatiently. Maddie gestured at a nearby parking lot, but said nothing. With a shrug, Jack stuck in his head back in, and turned the oversized assault vehicle into the vacant lot.

When both cars had pulled in, Jack stepped out with a grin while Maddie slammed her car door, still breathing deeply.

"Y'know, I suppose this makes us even more set for life, babycakes…us meetin' in the street the way we…..Maddie….what's….what's wrong?"

He'd taken a glance at her face. Torn between the urge to laugh and faint, Maddie buried her face in her hands.

"We need to talk," she said softly. "We're in trouble?"

"Why? The GIW said that the on-switch thing sucked, but they can always rewire it themselves. Just so long as the thing wor-"

"Ghost," she said weakly, capturing Jack's attention immediately. "There's a ghost after our baby."

* * *

><p>Before Jack could say anything, Maddie's breath stopped short, and she seized her husband by the front of his jumpsuit.<p>

"Where are the kids?"

Jack had been staring his wife, aghast, but he uncertainly pointed towards their street.

"Oh, at home, with y..."

The man stopped short, and his insides turned to ice with dread.

"I didn't know you'd left. I ran out to the pharmacy to grab a few things."

"Oh, God."

"They didn't know that we..."

"Oh, God."

~(0*0)~

"You should have come to tell me you were leaving!" Jack bellowed outside of his window, zipping down the street.

"I LEFT A NOTE!" Maddie shouted, forcing her foot off the accelerator so that she didn't bash the family RV. "How long has it been?"

"Half hour. Maybe forty-five minutes. With any luck, Jazzy is playing in her room, and Danny decided to take a na…ack!"

Jack slammed on the brakes, and Maddie's car nearly slammed into his. Muttering under her breath, she stuck her head out the window to see what her husband was staring at-

And her breath caught.

There was a plume of black smoke rising into the air, towering like a mushroom.

And it was coming from the inside of FentonWorks.

* * *

><p><em>Set a man to watch all night,<br>Watch all night, watch all night,  
>Set a man to watch all night,<br>My fair lady._

Danny happily squeezed his teddy's hand again, quite pleased that it sang again normally. Humming, he turned to a new page in his sketchbook, and merrily started doodling, pausing to take a swig from the apple juice sitting near his bed.

Although being part ghost was still very scary, and sometimes, he still phased out of bed and fell onto the floor, he couldn't deny that there were benefits when you had a fussy half-dead guy looking over you. While Jack had brought Danny a cup of very badly-burned canned chicken soup, Vlad had thrown the putrid plate away and brought him a yummy sandwich and ice cream for lunch. It was certainly the most agreeable time he'd ever been "sick," better than when he'd had his tonsils taken out and had been given all the popsicles he could eat by the nurses.

With a small sigh, Danny leaned back against his pillows, at peace with himself, and the world. He'd waited for this day for a while now, and while the specifics still made him awfully nervous, he was glad that he'd done what he'd did. He couldn't even remember being held before Vlad came along. Surely this was the right choice.

Or if it wasn't, well, too bad. He pushed his tray away, winced as he stretched his aching limbs, and cuddled his singing bear close, staring thoughtfully at the dark clouds massing about outside. It looked like it was going to rain, soon….

With a little pop, Danny heard an all too familiar voice in his ear.

"Daniel?"

Danny didn't look up, so intent was he on getting the daisies to look right.

"Mmm?"

"It's done."

"Thank you."

"Are you frightened?"

"Nah. Not really."

"For future reference, I'd rather you not play with matches. Half ghost or not, it's extremely dangerous," the ghost lectured sternly as he moved to sit beside the boy, picking up a small picture book.

"Kay," murmured Danny, picking up a picture, examining it critically. "How long d'we have?"

"Before the fire reaches the basement? I'd say eleven minutes."

Danny glanced up, and gave the ghost a large smile.

"Cool. Do you think that's enough time to play a quick game of hide and go seek?"

* * *

><p>The flames were hungrily devouring as much of Fenton Works as they could find, and a fourth of the buildings supports were already beginning to weaken considerably. Before the fire trucks could come wailing up, Maddie had kicked down the front door, and sped through the flames coughing, calling out frantically for Jasmine. The terrified little redhead was trapped on a chair, holding her arms out entreatingly for her Mommy as the woman sped towards her in tears. Jack, in the meantime, sped up the stairs, avoiding the flame that was already licking at the walls...<p>

_Suppose the man should fall asleep,_  
><em> Fall asleep, fall asleep,<em>  
><em> Suppose the man should fall asleep?<em>  
><em> My fair lady.<em>

It was the little toy singing from Danny's room, and the fire had already engulfed most of the roof in that part of the house! With a wild squawk of fear, Jack sped into the hallway, huffing and puffing as he attempted to avoid the embers crashing about him...

* * *

><p><em>Give him a pipe to smoke all night,<em>  
><em> Smoke all night, smoke all night,<em>  
><em> Give him a pipe to smoke all night,<em>  
><em> My fair lady.<em>

Not bothering to try and open the door, Jack instead started ramming it with all of his might, crying all the while, the bear's singing and the fire roaring and everything turning into a confusing dirge...

But at last, he ripped the door off its hinges, and walked into a nightmare.

His son was in the arms of the blue-skinned, red-eyed ghost that the child had drawn too many times-pictures Jack had only ever glanced at. Half of the room was already a golden, burning inferno, and the deathly-looking revenant was murmuring something to Jack Fenton's son, who had his hands over his mouth:

"Be sure not to inhale….carbon monoxide….dangerous…."

"DANNY!" Roared Jack, kicking through the flames and burning timber, and aiming a gleaming emerald thermos at the ghost, grey eyes sparkling with fear and hatred. "LEGGO OF MY SON, YA FILTHY SPOOK!"

A burning beam from the ceiling suddenly collapsed between the three, and while Jack winced as the heat seared at his face, he tried to march through the flames, only managing to burn himself harder in the process. Yelping with pain, Jack staggered back as more of the roof gave way, letting in a light evening drizzle that seemed only to help accelerate the wild flames licking and destroying around him.

All the while, Vlad only gazed at him appraisingly, as if he were some filthy dog on the premises.

Sweat beading his filthy brow, Jack stretched out his arms through the burning wreckage, gloved hands entreatingly open for the little boy with his face pressed against the ghost's chest in a way that seemed horribly familiar.

Or not familiar. Maybe that was the problem. Jack gagged, becoming lightheaded, his back stinging horribly as he narrowly avoided having a pile of falling, burning timber collapse on him.

"Son! COME ON! JUMP! KICK HIM! **I'LL SAVE YOU**! Danny! DANNY!"

The boy at last looked out from his small sanctuary, the heat of the braziers making his dark hair flutter slightly. He looked slightly nervous, a little scared, and a little…..

…angry.

"No, thanks." Danny said simply, pressing his face against the intruder's shoulder again.

"DANNY! NO! WHAT D'YEH-STOP! FIGHT! SON, DON'T LET HIM GET TO YOU! YOU GOTTA GET BACK, BEFORE-"

"Daniel, would like to go home?" asked Vlad quietly, stroking the child's head languidly, as though he had all the time in the world, a small, sadistic smile growing on his face as the ghost considered Jack Fenton.

Danny withdrew again, casting the ghost a confused look.

"Home?"

"Yes."

Silence. Danny fidgeted. Then, with a small smile, he broke Jack Fenton's heart, and squeezed his little bear, smiling faintly as he regarded the ghost. It was the way a child might look to a parent they know is being a little silly on purpose.

"I'd like that."

Vlad exhaled, shoulders relaxing, and the furrowed brow disappearing. He kissed the crown of Danny's head, now hardly noticing the stricken man standing in a world that was literally collapsing all around him into pieces. Vlad turned around, and checked a pocketwatch.

"Well, then."

He turned around once more, and Jack was to remember this moment for the rest of his life: The sirens outside wailing, his back burning, his wife screaming from the sidewalk, the specter's satisfied smirk, Danny's almost wistful little smile…..

"Good day to you." Said Vlad Plasmius politely, and with that, he turned around, and glided away from the ashen ruins, Danny still clutched safely in his arms, teddy bear all the while singing,

_Give him a pipe to smoke all night,_  
><em> Smoke all night, smoke all night,<em>  
><em> Give him a pipe to smoke all night,<em>  
><em> My fair lady.<em>

It was the last time he would see either of them ever again.

* * *

><p>Jack woke up in the ER two days later, with some third-degree burns and blisters, and he'd been hooked up to an oxygen machine. The machine had been blown sky-high, and the GIW had by this time found another group willing to create a spectral portal. Maddie and Jack had lost all of their equipment, so there was no chance to try again.<p>

It didn't really matter that much, anyway. Neither Jack or Maddie wanted to see or have anything to do with ghosts ever again. Jasmine's state was mostly wild tears and violent regret, and it was enough that they could manage to send her to a grief counselor, let alone get through the next month.

Officially in the papers, Danny Fenton has died. Jack usually doesn't doubt it, although sometimes he wonders, and it torments him more than usual. He's tried to track down information on this ghost to no end, but he scarcely has time, and anyways, it makes Mads cry when he does.

Would revenge bring Danny back to them? If only. What-ifs aren't going to help anymore. Maddie manages her at-home secretary work as best as she can, and Jack's hoping to get a promotion soon to earn them a nicer apartment.

The only thing they really have left is each other, and while it feels like London Bridge has only ever been patched up, always damaged, gaping, and broken, it can't ever break again. That would truly make the bridge fall to pieces.

On some nights, Jack has the strangest, idiotic fancy that his son is still alive somewhere, and somehow, happy. While this thought only saddens him further in its improbability, it also makes the man smile just a little as he moves to go back into his apartment, and seek a few hours' solace.

If that hypothetically WERE true, Jack hopes the new bridge Danny builds is with better foundation than his father's. And though his own bridge certainly isn't great, it'd be nice if they could come to meet again someday._  
><em>

_London Bridge is broken down,  
>Falling down, falling down.<br>London Bridge is falling down,  
>My dear darling.<br>_


End file.
